


Short Skirt, Shorter Temper

by wingedbears



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Boys in Skirts, Crossdressing, Don't copy to another site, Intercrural Sex, Leather Kink, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 07:10:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20354446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedbears/pseuds/wingedbears
Summary: Steve Harrington is absolutely not attracted to Billy Hargrove.It’s just a fact. He’s not.Sure, Billy is objectively pretty, with his long, dark eyelashes, his weirdly full and pink mouth, and insanely thick thighs. Objectively.





	Short Skirt, Shorter Temper

Steve Harrington is absolutely not attracted to Billy Hargrove. 

It’s just a fact. He’s not. 

Sure, Billy is objectively pretty, with his long, dark eyelashes, his weirdly full and pink mouth, and insanely thick thighs. Objectively.

Steve’s comfortable enough in his bisexuality to say that he’s attracted to some guys, and not others. Like, he thinks the guy who played the red power ranger in the movies is hot, but Tommy H. isn’t. 

Steve’s eyes don’t wander in the boy’s locker room, and if they did, they wouldn’t be checking out Billy’s arms, or the patchy stubble along the edge of his jaw. Right? 

It starts when Tina McDaniel gets pulled out of class for wearing a skirt that’s too short. 

The entire senior class agrees that it’s bullshit, and soon, more and more girls come to school with short skirts and plain t-shirts with protests written in sharpie or puff paint (never let it be said that Nancy didn’t know how to craft) across their chests and backs. And each one of them gets detention.

Steve doesn’t think the skirts are that distracting. He’s usually distracted by Billy in Pre Calc, poking him with a pen and breathing onto his neck to think about his ex-girlfriend’s legs, anyway. 

It’s on Friday morning while Steve is talking to Nancy about her detention for that afternoon, promising to pick up Mike from the middle school, when Billy pulls up in the Camaro.

Steve rolls his eyes at Billy’s arrival, bass vibrating the windows of the car, and turns back to Nancy. 

“What time does he need to be home?” Steve asks, “because Dustin wants to go to the arcade —” Steve watches as Nancy’s eyes get impossibly wider and take over her small face. “Nancy, what —” Steve turns to look where something has caught Nancy’s attention, and_ oh my God_, Steve thinks.

Billy Hargrove, certified hipster, is wearing the shortest leather skirt Steve’s ever laid eyes on. 

“What?” Steve croaks, and that catches Billy’s attention, and he looks up and smiles at Steve wickedly.

“Like the look?” Billy asks, giving a twirl. 

Billy’s boots are the same, dirty and black leather that lead up past the ankle, long, muscular legs dusted with fine, blonde hairs. The view is blocked well past Billy’s mid thigh, where the black leather skirt snugly wraps around Billy’s hips and ass. He’s also wearing a camisole, silky and floral, straining at keeping his pecs in, and of course, his leather jacket. On the back of the jacket, Billy’s safety pinned a piece of paper with the phrase: “Short skirt, shorter temper.”

Nancy laughs, surprised and delighted. “Where did you get that?” she asks.

“My mom,” Billy says proudly. He smiles, and his lips gleam.

Steve finds his voice to croak out, “Are you wearing lip gloss?”

Billy flutters his eyelashes exaggeratedly. “Just like you to notice, Harrington,” he says. “It’s strawberry flavored, wanna try?”

Steve can’t find the words to deny Billy, and the longer he goes without answering, the more angry Billy looks. “No,” Steve says, trying not to squeak. “No, thank you, Hargrove.”

“Your loss,” Billy says, recovering like Steve wasn’t thinking of walking over and kissing all the lipgloss off of Billy Hargrove’s stupid, pink mouth. 

“He’s gonna get detention so fast,” Nancy says, impressed and shocked.

“Oh my God,” Steve says, watching Billy walk away. “They can’t do that, right?”

Nancy looks at him flatly. “Steve, he’s probably gonna get suspended.” She furrows her brows together, a classic _Nancy’s figuring something out_ face, but Steve is focused on other things. 

“But he’s not breaking any rules,” Steve says.

“Dress code wise, no,” Nancy agrees, “But distraction wise, yes.”

Before homeroom is over, Billy’s outfit is the talk of the school. 

He definitely got detention. 

When Pre Calculus rolls around at third period, Billy’s sitting in his usual spot, legs crossed at the ankles and reapplying lipgloss. 

Steve might die. 

“Did you get suspended?” Steve whispers to Billy, even if he’s normally loathe to start a conversation with him.

“Nope,” Billy replies, popping the p, and returning the wand back to the tube of his lipgloss. “My mom called and chewed them out.”

Steve thinks it must be nice to have a mom like that. “Wow,” he says, and realizes he sounds dumb. He turns back around in his seat and wonders through the entire period if Billy knows what the dangling pendant hanging down between his pressed pecs from the silky camisole is doing to Steve. Probably not.

There’s talk at lunch, but Billy and some of the other girls who got detention talk at a table. Nancy comes over after a minute to join him and Robin.

“He’s a good strategist,” Nancy says, surprised.

“I know,” Steve says through a mouthful of chicken fingers. 

Nancy makes a face, first at his food, then his statement. She blinks. “You know?” she asks.

Steve rolls his eyes. “He’s the captain of the basketball team, Nance,” Steve says. Steve dares a glance over to Billy, and wishes he didn’t because the skirt looks shorter, somehow? Do skirts work like that? He turns back to Nancy and Robin, who look shocked and unimpressed, respectively.

“You’re blushing, dingus,” Robin drawls, dipping a chicken finger in a stupid amount of ranch before biting it off.

“What?” Steve says, starting to deny it, and Nancy’s mouth opens, wide.

“Oh, my, God,” she says. 

“What?” Steve asks, stock still.

“You like him,” Nancy says.

Robin rolls her eyes so hard they might as well be in Cleveland by now. “Wow, Nancy,” she says, dripping with sarcasm, “how did you sleuth that one out?”

Nancy doesn’t pay her any attention, locking Steve under her piercing gaze. “Seriously?!” she asks, looking at Robin for confirmation. 

“I don’t like him,” Steve hisses at them. “He’s gross.”

“So are you,” Robin counters.

Steve gapes, fish like and offended. “That’s not the point,” Steve says, trying to get the conversation away from his non love life. 

“You look at him like you looked at me,” Nancy says, and that’s the nail in the coffin, isn’t it?

Steve looked at Nancy like she was the only thing that mattered, and now, he feels the same longing and desire (maybe he’s big enough to admit it) that he once felt for her before she broke his heart. 

Billy’s more than thighs and lipgloss, though. He’s protective of his step sister, and proud of his mom, and proud to be out, and he’s living the kind of life Steve wishes he was brave enough to have.

Steve seems to hang his hopes on distant stars that shine brighter than he ever will. He’s kind of an idiot, that way. 

Steve slumps, almost face first into his tater tots and sighs heavily. “Fine,” he groans. “So I like him. So what, it doesn’t mean anything. He’s,” Steve chances a look over to Billy’s table. “He’s him, and I’m me, and,” Steve shrugs, and wishes he had a fork to stab his lunch tray with. 

“Dude, this is not Romeo and Juliet,” Robin says, scrunching her face up in what Steve thinks is adorable, but he’d probably die if he told Robin that. Because she would kill him. “You can hit that.” She uses her last chicken finger to point at him, then Billy.

Steve frowns. “He’d never want me to,” he says, and Robin lets out the most guttural groan, sounding like she’s calling out to a sasquatch to save her from Steve’s idiocy. 

“Let me rephrase this,” Robin says after a deep breath. 

Steve leans in. 

“Billy likes you too.”

Nancy crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, lips pursed, as if to say, see?

Steve does not see. “What? No.” He pauses. “What?”

Robin rubs her face, and Nancy jumps into the ring. “This morning he offered to kiss you,” she says flatly.

“When?” Steve asks.

Nancy frowns and puffs her chest out, which honestly, looks ridiculous. “Hey Steve, like my outfit?” she asks, parodying Billy’s voice, deep. “I got lipgloss on, it’s strawberry flavored, wanna taste?” Nancy goes back to her normal stance, and throws her arms up. “Steve.”

“He,” Steve takes a deep breath, because he couldn’t dare imagine, “didn’t want me to put on lipgloss?”

“No,” Nancy says flatly, raising a hand up to her forehead. 

“Oh my God,” Robin gasps, half laughing. “He asked you to taste his lipgloss?”

“He said it’s strawberry flavored, and asked if I wanted to try it,” Steve says. “That’s not asking for a kiss.”

“No, but that pretty flirty,” Nancy replies.

“He flirts with everyone.”

Nancy and Robin share a look. “No,” Robin shakes her head, looking Steve dead in the eye. “He really doesn’t.”

Steve might be going down as the biggest idiot and loser in Hawkins High, but if that means he even gets a chance to hold Billy’s hand? Worth it.

Basketball practice is torture because Steve has to keep his back to Billy getting out of his skirt and camisole and into gym clothes. Practice is fairly normal, Billy yelling at him to stop travelling and to _make a move already, Harrington. _

_Oh I will_, Steve thinks. _Just wait._

Steve stays well out of Billy’s range during the showers and waits outside the boy’s locker room after he’s changed. 

Final bell rings and Billy walks out, frowning deeply. “Hey Hargrove,” Steve says, heart pounding, unsure, but willing to walk out onto the diving board.

Billy’s face smoothes out into a blank slate. “What, Harrington?” he sneers. He leans down and tugs on the edge of his skirt, pulling it down a little, and Steve kind of… spaces out for a moment. “Harrington!” Billy snaps, and Steve knows it’s not the first time Billy’s said his name. 

“I uh, need help with Pre Calculus. The equations are uh...hard.”

Billy breathes heavily through his nose for a moment, then rolls his eyes. “Fucking fine. My house, four thirty.” He shoulders his way past Steve and heads to detention. 

Steve pulls up to Billy’s house after carpooling the kids around at exactly four thirty, and sits in his car for a minute and wonders if he’s really doing this. Steve takes a deep breath in and gets out of the BMW.

When he knocks on the door, Billy opens it, still, inexplicably, in the skirt, but out of the cami, wearing a baggy sweatshirt instead. 

“Hey,” Billy drones, “come on, no one’s home,” he says, and Steve walks in and turns around. 

Stares at Billy.

“... Snacks or whatever,” Billy is saying then he frowns, suddenly pissed. “What the fuck is your deal, Harrington? You’ve been out of it all day.”

“I wanna try it,” Steve blurts out, staring at Billy’s lips, then licking his own. 

“The...bagel bites?” Billy asks. He raises a thick eyebrow, confused. 

“The,” Steve swallows. “The lipgloss, I wanna try it.”

Billy’s mouth turns up at the corners just a little, before his mouth goes perfectly round. “Oh,” he says. “I’ve only got the one flavor, that okay?”

Steve nods, heart beating so loud, it’s a miracle Billy can’t hear it. 

Billy steps forward, and his eyes dart over Steve’s face, searching for something, and Steve’s not sure if Billy found it, but Steve moves closer, and Billy’s face slackens. 

Steve leans in, slowly, giving Billy plenty of time to push him away, to tell him no, but Billy doesn’t, just puts a shaky hand on Steve’s neck and pulls him in. 

Billy’s lips aren’t as plush as Steve has imagined, they’re more firm, slick from lipgloss, and yes, when Steve opens his mouth to run his tongue along Billy’s mouth, it’s like candied strawberries. 

Billy hums, opens his mouth in reply to Steve’s searching tongue, and Steve is more than willing to go further. 

Steve grunts, threading his fingers through soft and curly, tangled hair, feels his way along the ridges and valleys of Billy’s mouth, searching for the spots that make Billy react. He wants to know what makes Billy moan, what makes him shudder, wants to know all the spots Billy likes and doesn’t like. 

Steve pulls back to breathe in heavily, opens his eyes and realizes that Billy’s led him to the den, the couch behind them. It’s the unspoken question that Steve needs to verbalize. But he swallows around the fear.

“Did you wanna?” Steve asks, darting his eyes to the couch, and back to Billy.

“I mean, yeah, but I don’t, I can’t,” Billy’s face contorts in anger and fear.

“We don’t have to,” Steve says, and he means it. Nothing has to happen. Even if Steve desperately wants it to happen. Even if Steve might have to drive home with a half hard cock and still not understanding Calculus. 

Billy smiles, and he looks tired. “Yeah,” he says. “I know it’s whatever for you, but,” Billy shrugs, seems to shrink in on himself, crossing his arms. It looks unnatural. Billy is a force to be reckoned with. Steve knows there’s something being unsaid, and Robin always told him that partners appreciate honesty. 

“Dude,” Steve says. “I’m gonna be straight with you.”

Billy raises an eyebrow and smirks.

“Shut up,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. “I really, really like kissing you. I wanna do other stuff with you. I like you, as a person.”

Billy frowns slightly, blinking. “You mean,” he looks to the floor and then to Steve, tilting his head, “You’re not like, testing the gay waters? Getting your rocks off because of my skirt?”

In for a penny, Steve thinks. “I’m definitely bi, and yes, I want to do things to you because of your skirt, but I’d like to do things with you without your skirt too.”

That sounds worse. “I mean, I wanna like, take you to the movies, and shit.” _Fuck it._ “I want to date you.”

Billy stares at him, like Steve is giving the worst TED talk of all time. 

“But,” Steve continues, trying to dump out the word water out of the sinking raft, “if you want to just fool around, we. Uh,” Steve blinks. Bites his lip. “I can leave, now.” Because Steve knows that if Billy wants to just fool around, just let Steve do whatever, but won’t let Steve hold his hand in the hallway, Steve can’t do it.

He wonders when he started wearing his heart on his sleeve. 

Billy reaches out and grabs Steve’s wrist. “Stay,” he says. “We can uh,” he smiles, soft and shy and Steve feels like this is even better than the kissing, honestly, “do stuff with the skirt, and then you can take me out for a burger.”

“Done,” Steve says, a little too quickly. “I do need help with Pre Calc, though, I wasn’t kidding about that.”

Billy laughs. “Yeah, I know, I sit behind you.” He rubs his thumb on the inside of Steve’s wrist. He tilts his head, motioning his way down the hall. “C’mon, it’ll be easier in my room.”

“Easier?”

“I’m not cleaning splooge off a fabric couch, Harrington,” Billy says, and pulls Steve down the hallway with him. 

They get to Billy’s room, and Billy shuts and locks the door before walking over and laying on the bed.

Steve stands there for a moment. 

“Well?” Billy asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Do I just, dive in, or?” Steve asks, trailing off.

Billy groans, but it’s not in pleasure. “Jesus, Steve, just come here and kiss me.”

Steve beams, and jumps on the bed next to Billy, bouncing him closer. “You called me Steve,” he says, teasing, threading a hand into fine, soft hair again. Kissing Billy’s neck, his ear, his stubbled cheek. 

“Fuck off, I did not.”

“You did,” Steve says, and slots his mouth to Billy’s. He simply brushes their lips together, feeling the sticky-slick feel of lipgloss between them, the soft give of Billy’s upper lip, the tickling and prickly feel of Billy’s mustache. “Billy,” Steve whispers.

Billy hums, a sharp questioning noise, and Steve scoots closer to Billy, wanting to feel his warmth. Billy rolls over willingly onto his back, pulling Steve on top.

Steve has never felt so anticipatory for sex in his life. Steve scrapes his teeth along the edge of Billy’s jaw, makes his way down to Billy’s neck, nipping and sucking. 

Billy gasps but pulls on Steve’s hair, a sign to stop.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, his voice deeper than usual.

“No hickeys,” Billy hisses, claiming Steve’s mouth again. 

Steve stays there for a moment, moving his lips in a dance with Billy’s. He lets his hand wander down Billy’s side, stuttering over his hip and feeling the soft leather, squeezing there before drifting down to the hem of the skirt. 

Billy starts laughing while Steve’s hand wanders up under the skirt.

“What?” Steve mutters, cursing the sweatshirt blocking his way to Billy’s chest. 

“I’m not actually a girl, you don’t have to ease me into it.”

“Dude, I treat all my sexual partners with the same amount of courtesy, so fuck off.”

Billy snorts, wiggles on the bed. “Well, in that case you have blanket permission to do whatever.”

“I’m still gonna ask, asshole,” Steve says, inching his hand further up the skirt, dipping his index finger in between Billy’s thighs. He props himself up on his elbow and shoves Billy’s shirt up, revealing a firm stomach. 

Steve kisses it, gently, then licks into Billy’s belly button. 

Billy sucks in a breath.

“This okay?” Steve asks, the tips of his fingers reaching Billy’s underwear, the soft rounded sac and hardening cock, waiting for Steve.

Billy nods, suddenly quiet. 

Steve works his way down to Billy’s thighs, trying to slip between them, but finds it impossible with the skirt. It’s simply too tight. 

Steve hums, kissing Billy’s softly furred thighs, right at the edge of the skirt. 

Billy sighs, sitting up and watching as Steve slowly rolls up the skirt to reveal more thigh, and claiming that too.

Steve spends a long time there, probably too long to act cool about it later, biting and sucking what are definitely hickeys onto Billy’s thighs.

But with each scrape of teeth, or lave of tongue, or sucking of skin, Billy’s hips twitch, his fingers grip Steve’s hair, and his throat lets out soft moans. So Steve carries on.

Steve slides two fingers up between Billy’s shaking and bitten thighs and wedges them carefully between the skirt and Billy’s hip. “Fuck,” Steve says, because that won’t work either. He pulls his hand out and tugs the skirt down, ready to call it quits and take the skirt off.

But he sees Billy’s erection outlined painfully in leather, Billy’s sweat-slicked belly, and his pink, bitten lips. 

“I’m gonna,” Steve says, voice hoarse, and doesn’t say what he intends to do because he’s sliding his hand to the hip where the zipper is and unlocking the teeth there. He slips the skirt down, enough where Billy’s cock can breathe under the leather, and leans down and licks the relief of Billy’s cock pressed up into the skirt.

Billy’s resulting moan is shaky and loud, and the hands gripping Steve’s hair become tighter. “Steve,” Billy says, starting to shake. 

“You close?” Steve asks, breath fogging up the leather, wet droplets of air and spit merging in a puddle that run down to Billy’s bruised thighs.

Billy lets out a sharp breath in reply. Steve takes that for a yes and sits up, straddling Billy’s thighs, slips his hand under the skirt and feels along the elastic of Billy’s underwear when Billy stops him. 

Before Steve can ask, Billy’s dragging his hand out, letting it rest on his stomach before Billy starts to work on Steve’s jeans. 

Steve leans back, on his knees and shoves his pants like halfway down his legs before almost falling over and catching himself with one arm, awkwardly. His cock eagerly finds a warm home between Billy’s thighs.

Steve spends a moment trying to steady himself and not blow it, when Billy smirks, that weird, devilish smile he has when he’s about to annoy Steve. Steve frowns.

Billy clamps his thighs together, trapping Steve’s cock. 

“Shit,” Steve moans, and Billy laughs. 

“Fuck me,” Billy says, pulling Steve down, and Steve slowly pumps his hips, licking his way along the adam’s apple of Billy’s throat, the sharp hairs cutting into his tongue. 

Billy keens, his thighs clench as Steve fucks them, thrusting into claimed territory, the edge of the skirt rubbing his dick on the outstroke. 

Steve knows he’s close, so he slides a hand between them and finally, finally gets to Billy’s cock. Smaller than his, but so much thicker, and Steve can’t wait til it’s inside him, and he’s got to get Billy off now, Steve’s so gone.

Luckily, Billy gasps at Steve’s constrained hand job and his body bows up, his thighs so tight together Steve’s kind of afraid for his dick for two seconds before he pulls out and then comes all over Billy’s thighs and the skirt.

“Shit,” Billy laughs a moment later, Steve on top of him.

“Okay?” Steve asks, wanting to add more to that, but doesn’t really have the breath to now. 

“Yeah,” Billy says. 

“Cool.”

Later, they’ll talk about what this means, take a shower that’s counterproductive because Steve finally gets his mouth on Billy’s dick. Billy will retaliate with a handjob and playing with Steve’s ass. They’ll do laundry and wear ill fitting but comfortable clothes, and Billy will make Steve study Calculus for an hour, seemingly undeterred by Steve playing footsie. 

Later, they’ll play video games, and Steve will kiss Billy again and again until Billy’s mom comes home and invites Steve to stay for dinner. 

She’ll smile knowingly at them, and Steve will see Billy blush outside of the bedroom.

But for now they lie in cum stained clothes, holding hands, breathing in, ready for what’s next. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title and idea from a tumblr post I can't find, and part of a kink bingo!


End file.
